Deadly Force
by carlycarter
Summary: Myka has blood on her hands following a seemingly random death...only trouble this time is there is no artifact at play, no artifact to clean up the mess. Myka has a secret she is determined to take to the grave... only trouble with that is ... Pete will not let it be.


For my dear friend and muse, Kathryn0505. Since the day I read her Myka fan fiction, a whole new insight into Myka was granted to me. Every piece of every story I write in this fandom is forever coloured by her influence, encouragement, and deep inspiration. I can only hope this lives up to expectations. It has been a great joy to read her work, to talk and to argue relentlessly about character and plot, and to find new ways to look through the characters eyes. Aside from being my inspiration she is a great and treasured friend. I hope she knows this.

If you are unfamiliar with Kathryn0505 you are really missing out. Go read all her stories on ff net now. You won't be disappointed.

* * *

_**Deadly Force **_

Chapter 1 

There room is eerily silent. The only sound Pete can hear is his own heart pounding, and the hollow sound of Myka's rapid shallow breaths.

There is faint smudge of blood marring her otherwise flawless complexion, extending down her left cheek. This marking bothers Pete more than any other thing in that moment. His fingers are itching to clear it away. To pull her close, to stroke her perfect long straight hair. But he quickly shakes his head, orienting himself to time and place. Pete cast a sideways glance to Artie, sitting right next to him, and this is most certainly NOT the time or place.

Pete and Artie sit casually perched against the desk behind, and Myka stands before them. Artie's arms are crossed, as he casts an expectant displeased look towards Myka. But Pete display a more open posture. There were so many things Pete wanted to say to her right then. But Artie made it more than clear-_ 'One word from you Pete, and you're out!_" And it was no empty threat. So Pete could only hope his body language would convey his support to her. It would have to. Because Myka wouldn't even look him in the eye to see how much he wanted to tell her that everything was gonna be ok.

It's killing him. Well, maybe thats a little over dramatic. But it's physically hurting some place deep in his chest, to sit calmy and watch her break. But he cant leave here. Pete knows he is virtually powerless to help her. But he can at least say he stood by her side. Later, Pete tells himself, he would be able to talk to her. Later he would tell her he was sorry for the way Artie spoke to her, sorry he couldn't do anything, couldn't speak in her defence.

It hadn't occurred to Pete that Myka might very likely perceive Pete's presence as an attack from both him and Artie. That they were both out to get her. That she might not see it as him wanting to be there for her, to support her. That in her moment of desperation, she might not want him standing there, witness to her agony. Letting it wash over him as if it was his own. He had not asked Myka if she wanted him there. He didn't think he needed to. It was an unspoken rule, Partners have each others back. And, somehow, even though there is no reason for alarm, Pete feels a bad vibe. Pete feels that the worst is yet to come. And come what may, until death, he would be by her side. They would likely die together, they often joked, and probably in the near future with their current profession.

Artie wasn't exactly out to get Myka. This Pete knows. But he also knows, Myka won't see it that way. Though Artie could never admit it, he had a huge soft spot for Myka. Truth be told, Artie thought of them all as his children. But Myka in particual was a "daddy's girl". And Pete knows Artie doesn't MEAN to harm Myka in any way at all. But his scathing glance is cutting her deep, Pete knows it, he feels it.

But Artie is tired. And frustrated. Myka is playing games, leading him in circles. Almost like she is deliberately doing it too. And Pete can't quire figure out WHY she wont come clean with Artie. Though they clash, often, its not in Myka's nature to openly defy Artie about something so important.

And thats the thing causing the sharp bolts of pain through Pete's chest. Something is wrong. VERY wrong. Unfortunately, in their line of work, even before the Warehouse, people died. And this isn't the first, nor will it be the last, man to lose his life at Myka's hand. It never sat comfortably with Myka, but she knew her duty, and performed it flawlessly. Pete has never seen it cut her so deeply. Pete knows it has shaken her, because she is trying so hard to pretend it hadn't. She is trying so hard it is painful to watch. Because she is falling apart, piece by piece. But it is the only way to get through to her, so it seems.

The trio have been three hours in that room. Sometimes Artie paced, sometimes he sat behind the desk, and now, finally, with Pete close at his side, he perches casually against the desk as Myka remains perfectly still, standing before them, refusing from the start to be seated.

Artie is asking all kinds of questions.

First he had been uncharacteristically and uncomfortably gentle, asking if she was ok, pulling her to an awkward yet heartfelt embrace. But then, it was down to business. Then, it was professional all the way. Asking her for details, after all isn't that her specialty? An eye for detail? Artie tried to trap her into talking that way. But Myka wasn't giving it up that easily. She became frustrated, almost angry, and Artie even angrier, to the point of rage. More than Pete had ever seen.

Both of them now ready to explode, Pete observes. He wouldn't care to bet which one would break first. But if he really had to bet, his money was on Myka.

Battle hardened and war weary, Myka would probably crack first. She hadn't eaten or slept in days, this Pete know is a fact. And the pressure of the case, of everything that happened, followed by Artie's relentless questioning, Pete can see it all over her face, no matter how hard she tries to hide it. Myka can't take much more, Pete thinks.

It kills him, but he knows he can't stop it. Any of it. He could hardly go over to her, in front of Artie, and hold her as tight as he wanted to hold her. He could not whisper in her ear how glad he was that she was safe, how he would never let anything bad happen to her ever again, how sorry he was that she had faced this alone, that he let her down. And it's not just professionalism stopping him. It's how damn angry Myka would be if Pete treated her like that in front of Artie. She said it to his face, more than once, that she didn't need you to save her from anything, she was more than capable of looking after herself. And Pete knows how badly she wants to please Artie, to be the perfect agent.

It's not that Pete doubts her capability to take care of herself. It's just there is a deep lonliness inside her, a deep deep need for someone to love her, trust her, respect her, value her, someone to lean on. Though she would never admit it aloud, she needed it. Face it, Pete needed it too. But he knows Myka hates being seen as "needy", and as much as he wants to step in, he knows it would only anger her more, cause her to lash out at him. Not to mention the fact that when Pete had instintivey leaned forward, longing to go to her, Artie had trod on his foot so damn hard it feel his foot will break in two. Pete hopes Myka will see it, that Artie has him trapped, after all her gaze is cast to the floor. But Pete's trapped and wounded foot is probably not what is running through her mind.

Besides, much as it hurt Pete seeing Myka trembling with anger and pain and fear, he knows it has to be done. They need to know what has happened. The events of the day unfolded in a whirl of panic and confusion. Pete needs to know what happened to her, to know that she is safe. Perhaps that colors Artie's motives too, beyond the fact he is the boss and has to clean up this mess. And beyond all that, Pete knows Myka has to face what happened, has to speak it aloud, because it is killing her, draining the life from her eyes, minute by minute.

Pete had tried to ask Artie, he actually begged, demanded, pleaded, to let it be him. If he could just talk to Myka alone, she could confide in him she would feel comfortable, she would trust him.

'It's gone way too far for that.' Artie muttered ominously, almost trembling, in a tone Pete had never heard. There wasn't even a trace of annoyance at Pete for questioning Artie.

'What the hell is that supposed to mean?' Pete asked.

'If you want to be in the room then shut the hell up! 'Was the only answer he got. He was comforted by the familiar anger in Artie's voice.

As he sits, his foot now numb, Artie finally releases it, setting Pete free. It's then Pete starts to wonder...Is Artie trying to break HIM? Did he want Pete to go to her? A good cop, bad cop type of thing?

Myka continues staring downwards, a haunted blank expression on her face. She is trying so hard to keep a mask in place. To hide behind a veneer of confidence and professionalism, and sight arrogance. But she is sinking, fast. And Pete wants so badly to tell her that it's ok. _Just tell Artie what happened and it wil be ok. Just tell us what happened...and cry and get angry and anything else you need to do, just tell us and we will work something out..._That's what Pete wants her to know. He and Artie will stick by her no matter what, but she has to let them in. Or they can not help her.

"Where is Claudia?" Myka asks suddenly, sharply, as if she has just become aware that the red head is not in the room. She had been banished three hours prior, and the door slammed shut and locked by Artie.

Its the first time in three hours that Myka has initiated conversation. It's the first time in the last two hours that she has spoken a word at all. It is progress, of a kind.

"Oh. Oh Im sorry" Artie reponds, bitter sarcasm dripping for his voice "Suddenly now you care about Claudia?" He asks.

"Hey, thats not fair!" Pete buts it. He will not bite his tongue at that taunt. Not when he sees that Artie has the desired effect- It gets her attention, engages her in conversation, but at the same time it slices through Myka's heart like a white hot blade. She doesn't even try to hide the pain that flashes across her face at the unspoken accusation that she had endangered Claudia.

"Claudia wasn't supposed to be there" Myka insists quickly. "Claudia was not supposed to be there. She wasn't. Claudia wasn't. She wasn't meant to be there." Myka repeats it, as if she is telling it to herself, trying to convince herself, trying to keep calm. Her voice grows softer and less certain with each syllable.

Its the first time she has spoken a work about what happened. So, Artie is getting somewhere.

"Myks, Claudia is ok." Pete assures her, because Artie won't. Pete understands Artie is trying to break Myka, but he can't let her think something happened to Claudia just to guilt her into talking. That was crossing a line.

"Claudia WILL BE ok." Artie corrects. "No thanks to either of you."

Pete knows Artie doesn't mean it in quite the way it sounds. And still it cuts him a little. But Myka? It crushes her. The weight of guilt she can't hold.

Finally, Artie has found a weak point, a way in. If he had only known Claudia was the way in to the story he would have tried that first. Truthfully, until Myka had asked, he hadn't thought twice about Claudia since he had sent her back to the B and b. Myka had not either, not until she asked the question.

"Claudia wasn't supposed to be there." Myka repeats, as if in a trance.

Pete has to take a deep breath. He feels rage boiling inside him at Artie for guilting Myka the way he was, for placing either of them in danger in the first place, for dragging them into this Warehouse at all. What right did Artie have to inflict this endless wonder on the people Pete loved?

Very quickly, Pete's anger turns inward, towards himself. His frustration at not being there at the time, not being able to comfort her now, unable to bring that sparkle back to her eyes. He had always been able to make Myka feel safe. Always. But there is nothing he can do in that moment. Anger turns to helplessness.

"I don't want to talk about this." Myka states, pleading yet trying so hard to keep her voice steady. Trying so damn hard and she just can't do it.

Something frightens Pete. It's not the way he can see the blood drain from Myka's face, as she becomes even more pale, if it were possible, and the smeer of blood appears to glow against her skin. It's not the look of haunted vulnerability in her eyes. It's something entirely new. Something Pete had never seen. Not even when she talked about Sam. He had seen dark things inside her before, horror and grief and rage, guilt and regret and agony. But this is even more than that. Beyond anything he has ever known in her.

It's something Pete can't place his finger on, something he can't describe or name or even see. It's like a vibe, a bad bad vibe. Like a feeling that she is forever changed by the events of the day. That whatever happened to her cant be fixed or healed or erased. Something permanent about the damage thats been done. And an awful guilty heavy sense that he is making things worse by just sitting here watching it happen right in front of him. Watching her crumble right in front of Artie. It's the horrendous feeling that he just cant fix things for her this time, that he cant make it better or take it away or bring her any comfort at all. He tells himself, that if she would just tell him what happened, then he could make it ok. He tries to believe it.

Pete shakes his foot, pins and needles as the sensation returns. He reminds himself to keep a clear head. His thoughts were running away with him. Myka is supposed to be the one getting carried away with over-thinking things. Pete, he takes action. She looks, he leaps, just as the Warehouse dictated.

But Myka is calm under pressure, and Pete is confident, she will get through this. It was just another shitty day at the Warehouse. She has survived worse. She will get past it, Artie will get past it. Pete will wipe away all her bad memories and life would go back to normal. They just have to get through this, whatever the hell 'This' is. Pete's only hope now is that it will be over quickly.

"This is not optional. You will answer to me, or..." Artie's voice trails off. He looks at Myka with a cold expression. As if he need not finish the sentence, as if she should be afraid of him just by his booming voice and hateful gaze.

"Or?" Myka challenges him, finding a last lingering shred of bitter strength to challenge him. Her voice is equally icy. Gone is the haunted vulnerability, the childlike thing in her eye that Pete often sees when Myka stands in front of Artie. Gone is the trembling voice. There is anger now. Resentment. Blame, even, as she challenges him. Lifting her head slightly to one side, a frightening grin on her face as her long straight hair hangs over her shoulders.

She is angry now. Truly angry. Her very last line of defence. A last ditched effort. And it sucks all the life out of her.

Artie stands from his spot. Slowly at first, inching towards her, towering over her. Instinctively Myka backs away slowly, until her back is against the wall. Surprise more than fear motivating her.

"ANSWER ME!" Artie booms, and even Pete jump a little.

There really is no escape from Artie's inquisition. Not now. Not now that she is cowering in the corner. Like a child and an angry father. A very angry father. Pete knows it's a scenario particularly triggering for Myka. Once Artie had hooked into that dynamic, she can not win. She always caved.

"Myka." Artie speaks her name, not coldly this time, but firmly, "Tell me what happened."

"No." She says softly, shaking her head. "No. No. No." She repeats.

Tears are falling now, three hours she had been fighting it, she can't do it anymore. She doesn't try to stop crying.

"A man is dead." Artie reminds her, his voice still firm. Seeing tears makes him want to soften, but he is almost there. He has to keep going.

"No. I don't know. No." She tells him, her gaze wanders sideways, and Artie follows, she has no escape. She doesn't even realise Pete is in the room at this stage.

"You know Pete and I want to help you." Artie tells her. It's then Myka looks over Artie, to Pete still perched uncomfortably on the desk. "You have to tell us what happened. We support you 100%, but I will not tolerate this." His voice now shifts from firm to gentle and back to firm again.

"Fine." Myka acknowledges. She catches her breath, with one hand wipes the tears from her face, and she stares Artie in the eye. "I killed him."

"I know that." Artie answers, frustrated. "I need to know a few details, such as how, why, when, who, things like that." Artie prompts.

"I don't remember. I don't know." She mutters, shrugging her shoulders.

"Which is it!?" Artie's voice booms. "I don't remember or I don't know?!" Gone is any shread of support in his tone.

Myka says exactly nothing. She only buries her head in her hands as she slumps against the wall. As she sits, her whole body is shaking hard as she violently sobs.

That's Pete's breaking point.

Artie knows it too, he steps back in defeat. Artie turns his head away from them, he doesn't want to see how his interrogation has shattered her.

Pete rushes to her side, sitting next to her. "Myka?" He calls to her softly, gently. "It's ok." He tells her. Pete reaches for her hand, taking hold of it. With his other hand he runs his fingers over the top of her head, and down the length of her hair, resting on her lower back.

Myka flinches at Pete's touch. She pulls away at any attempt to embrace her. But Pete stands his ground. He won't be pushed away. He wont let her be consumed alone by her own pain. Pete is her partner. Her number one. And he is determined, she will not go through this alone.

Eventually she stops her futile efforts at struggling against him, and falls into his arms. Pete closes his eyes for a moment as he pulls her in tight, rocking her gently and whispering that everything was going to be ok.

Pete casts Artie a glance, angered that Artie had pushed her to this point. Then he turns his attention back towards Myka, still held tightly in his grasp.

As her sobbing subsides Pete loosens his grip though does not let her go all together. Myka pulls away in her own time, and Pete knows he has to let her. She moves slowly, cautiously, at first, then hastily wipes her eyes and shuffles away from him.

She looks to the ground, her head resting in one hand and mumbles an embarrased "I'm sorry, Pete."

"It's ok" Pete tells her, reaching for her face. She does not pull away, and he lifts her chin so she is looking him straight in the eye. "It's really ok, Myka. I just need you to tell me what happened, ok?"

She looks into his eyes, as if she is searching for something, then she looks to Artie, searching his gaze too. Whatever she is looking for, evidently she does not find it.

"No," she shakes her head. "No." She pulls away from him, flinching with every muscle in her body, and head in her hands she rolls up as tightly as she is able. She covers her eyes, her ears, she covers her face. She doesn't want to look at him, talk to him or listen to him. She retreats inside herself, not just physically but mentally.

Pete exchanges a helpless glance with Artie. And for the first time in ...forever... he does not know how to reach her. First time in a long time he really does not know what to do.


End file.
